Chuck vs The Two Weeks
by queenVEExo
Summary: Two weeks worth of Chuck/Sarah goodness. 4/14. Three times Chuck has watched Sarah while she slept. But not in the creepy, Edward Cullen-type of way. "When was the last time he had an extremely beautiful woman in sexy lingerie in his bed?"
1. Beautiful, Fake

AN: I'm quite late in joining the _Chuck_ fandom (I've managed to watch the entire series in about three weeks time, and I'm shamelessly _hooked_.)

Just to get into the flow of things (so far, 2011 has been pretty slow in terms of writing) I'm going to attempt to fill this collection with 14 or 15 stories. I can't guarantee that I'll get one in every day, but hopefully, I'll have what _would be_ two week's worth of writing by the time this is done. Gotta stay focused. Focusing is key.

First time writing fic for this fandom, so please, don't hesitate to leave any critiques about characterizations/voices/etc.

This particular story is an extended scene from the season two episode _Chuck vs. the Suburbs_.

Disclaimer: _Chuck_ is not mine.

* * *

Beautiful, Fake

Sarah wakes up early that morning, just as the sun is rising, and pads around the house barefoot. Beckman really hooked them up with a nice place this time, much nicer than any of the cramped apartments she had to share with Bryce.

She shakes his name out of her mind.

If she were to be honest with herself, she would admit that this is everything that she's ever really wanted. Sarah revels in her white, picket-fenced dream: a big house, decorated with pictures of her and her charming, handsome husband.

Husband.

The "wedding ring" feels much heavier when she reminds herself that it's only a cover for the mission.

She attempts to drive the fantasy out of her mind. She doesn't want to think about sweet, slightly bowlegged Chuck making an awkward joke that ends up being funny. She never wanted to grow so attached to him.

He's grown over the past year, she's realized. He's proven that he can be a very capable and resourceful spy, even if he'd never admit to it.

All things considered, she doesn't think he'd be a bad husband either.

But this is a mission. She has to stay focused. She needs to stay focused.

Focused on the safety of her husband.

She straightens, making her way over to the refrigerator for assorted ingredients for breakfast. The safety of the Intersect, she corrects herself.

"Good morning, sweetie," she calls while pouring the eggs over the frying vegetables. She doesn't see him come in, but she can hear his slippers chafe against the floor. She can tell that he's surprised that she's already up. "How'd you sleep?" She leans against the counter to face him.

"Like a _log_, honey!" he over annunciates each syllable nervously, eyes darting about the room. "The _bugs_," he mouths exaggeratedly.

"Casey swept the place clean," Sarah says calmly. "We're good."

Chuck exhales, relieved, and takes a seat at the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Are the neighbors coming over?" he asks, watching her flip the omelet over in the frying pan.

"No," she says, smirking, "I'm cooking for you, Chuck." She lets the eggs fry for a little longer. He says a few things that make her laugh as she hands him a plate.

"This is the _life_, Sarah," he tells her. "A beautiful fake home, a beautiful, fake wife cooking me breakfast..." He stuffed some egg into his mouth before offering her a smile. She turns back to the stove-top, feeling blood rush to her cheeks.

Chuck sighs. "A beautiful, fake dog." He calls the golden retriever over with a swift whistle and scratches behind her ears. "Well, the dog is real," he admits. Sarah throws her a slice of bacon.

"All we need now are two point five beautiful fake kids and we'll really be living this beautiful, fake American dream."

She laughs, bringing her hands to her hips. "We're supposed to be newly-weds, Chuck."

"I _know_," he whimpers, pulling her a little closer. "How about it, Mrs. Carmichael? Do you wanna have two point five beautiful, fake children with me?"

"It's only a cover," she says.

"We gotta sell it," he counters, squeezing her hand. He can't help but stare longingly at her beautiful, fake wedding ring. He notices she doesn't pull away from his grasp.

"-Bartowski!" Casey comes into the kitchen growling, right on cue.

"-and of course," Chuck exhales, "the beautiful fake cable guy interrupts our breakfast!"

Casey, clearly not amused places a tight grip over Chuck's shoulder. "_Why_ would you think it'd be a good idea to try and go Google searching for illegal foreign films?"

"Okay, okay, _okay_. Can you _please_ stop studying my browsing history? And those films weren't foreign. They were indie. And naturally, very obscure."

"Bartowski, you can't steal Wi-Fi from these people! We don't know who's Fulcrum and—"

"_For your information_," Chuck starts, nonchalant, "I couldn't find an unlocked network. So I _didn't_ join one. No stolen Wi-Fi. No harm done." He winces as Casey squeezes his shoulder.

"Almost gave us up, Mr. Carmichael," he grunts. Casey flicks Chuck at the back of his head with his finger. He slams Chuck's laptop shut and takes a seat next to him at the island. He looks at Chuck's plate, then at Sarah. "You never made me breakfast."

Chuck laughs. "_You're_ not her husband."

"Come off it, moron; neither are you."

Sarah rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. She knows they'll go at it if she doesn't shut the both of them up. "How do you like your eggs, Casey?"


	2. Hold the Olives

AN: Some more fluff! I actually wrote this one a few weeks ago, while I was still bumbling about early in the show's storyline. Another "scene insert" for a Season 2ish episode that I honestly can't remember the title of right now.

More stories coming soon! I have so many ideas, and not enough time to write them down!

Disclaimer: _Chuck_ is not mine. Unfortunately.

* * *

Hold the Olives

Friday nights with Ellie, Captain Awesome and Morgan have always been a little awkward. Surprisingly, they've become more awkward; even now that Chuck has a girlfriend.

Well, a _fake_ girlfriend. Not that anyone is aware of that small fact.

As Awesome sets up the DVD player downstairs, and Morgan's milling about getting the food ready, Ellie comes up to his room to brief him.

"Our first date night," Ellie says. She leans in the doorway and crosses her arms.

"It's actually not a legitimate date night," Chuck says. He holds a shirt out over his chest and examines himself in the mirror. "Morgan's _kind of_ dateless."

Ellie shrugs. "What a surprise." She works her way over to his closet and fumbles about inside. "This," she says, pulling out a decent shirt.

Chuck looks at her a little funny. He raises an eyebrow at his sister, but takes replaces his choice of shirt with hers. "You don't think I can dress myself?"

Ellie doesn't answer him; she just crosses her arms and gives him a look that says, "Of course not."

"Compliment her," she advises, after Chuck is dressed. She flattens out the creases in his shirt with her fingers. "Tell her she looks pretty. Tell her she smells nice."

"I know how to give my girlfriend a compliment, El."

She smiles. "Yeah. I'm sure you do." She isn't sarcastic, not this time. She means it. "She's a lucky girl."

Chuck exhales, taking in his reflection in the mirror. "Yep." She _would've_ been a lucky girl, he thinks. But he swiftly shakes the notion out of his mind. They're an undercover couple. That's the extent of their relationship.

Ellie directs her attention back to his outfit. "Chuck, you aren't _really_ gonna wear those jeans, are you?"

Chuck rolls his eyes, but Ellie is serious. "Change them?"

"Yes."

* * *

Halfway through the movie, Morgan falls asleep. Ellie and Awesome are smiling and snuggling together, sickly sweet. Sarah is picking the olives off of her slice of pizza.

Sarah hates olives on her pizza.

Chuck is sure of this because both times she's been over for dinner and romantic comedies, she picks the little miscreants off with a slightly disgusted look on her face. She's careful not to look too impolite about it, because, hey, free food is free food, but her face can only hold back so much. He watches as she plucks them, stripping them away from the cheese with the tips of her nails.

He's never really cared much for them either. They've really always been Morgan's favorite, and for a while, Awesome hailed them as being "relatively awesome," at least in moderation.

She eats everything else but the crust, and drops the plate on the coffee table. She slips into the space in his side and rests her hand on his knee. He isn't totally sure if she's just upholding the boyfriend/girlfriend cover, but he really likes the way she fits in so close to him.

That, and her hair smells like strawberries and cream.

"You smell nice," Chuck says, and Ellie smiles from the loveseat across the couch, nodding in approval. "I mean, your hair smells nice. Not that you, yourself, don't smell nice either, but your hair is right there and—"

Sarah smiles at his awkwardness. "Thanks, sweetie." She gives his knee a squeeze. Pet name. She's securing the cover.

Of course she would be securing the cover. It isn't like they're actually dating.

"No problem," he blows out, facing this unfortunate realization. He presses his lips to her temple. "Which conditioner is that, by the way?"

She turns to look at him. "Why?" she asks him with a sly expression on her face. "Do you want to use it?"

"Just curious."

"VO5, strawberries and cream," she tells him. He smiles silently, and gives her shoulder a slight squeeze. But on the inside, he's fist pumping (quite excitedly, as a matter of fact) because he knows his scents.

* * *

The next day, Chuck decides that he'll maintain his dutiful boyfriend cover and pay his girlfriend a visit. Fake girlfriend. He feels like he shouldn't have to remind himself of this detail because Sarah makes sure to tell him _numerous_ times while they're together, but she plays the role so convincingly in front of everyone that sometimes, even _he_ falls for it. If only for a moment, at least.

He tells Ellie that he's going to surprise his girlfriend with dinner and she approves accordingly. Awesome dubs the gesture as "nothing less than awesome."

"You're def gonna score tonight, bro," he tells Chuck. "Guaranteed. I know from experience: chicks dig it when you buy them food. Right, honey?" Ellie doesn't approve of his statement. She elbows him in the ribs.

Chuck knows that he definitely _will not_ score tonight, but he's grateful for Awesome's input anyway.

* * *

He stops at _Marcello's Pizzeria_ before heading over to Sarah's apartment.

"The usual?" Marcello asks, already flipping the pizza dough.

"Yeah." Marcello nods, and signals the boys in the back to get started on the order. "But hold the olives," Chuck says. "And the sausage and pepperoni." He pauses to think of things Sarah would like. "Could you add some green peppers? And make it a round pie this time. Side it with garlic knots."

"Chuck. This isn't exactly your original anymore."

He chuckles, characteristically nervous. "I guess not."

* * *

Chuck is actually quite excited about the whole ordeal. He's sure she'll appreciate the gesture. When he gets to her door, he straightens, puffs his chest out just a little bit, and knocks.

"Hey, Chuck," she says, smiling, as she cracks open the door. Her expression hardens a little. She's concerned. "What's up? You flash on anything?"

"Uh…" He holds up the bag of garlic knots. "Actually, no. I got you a little something."

She lets him in and he sets everything down onto the table. "You don't have to get me anything."

"What can I say?" Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. He waggles his eyebrows charismatically. "I'm a good boyfriend."

She laughs, won over by his charm. "It's only a cover, Chuck."

He waves her notion off and picks out a delectable slice for her. He inelegantly holds it over one hand to keep the dangling cheese from ruining her carpet.

"Vegetarian pie," he starts, and she takes the slice from him, "but no olives. I know you don't like them, but you never say anything about them when you're over."

She's touched. He can tell she is because her eyes are glassing over as though she's about to cry. He's actually a little scared because he was never really certain that someone as iron tough as Sarah even had tear ducts.

But he's relieved when she drops her hand next to his. She swallows, and purses her lips a bit before speaking.

"Thanks," she says softly. "Thanks a lot."


	3. Lullaby

AN: Sorry for the long wait you guys! Life is so busy! I had the bulk of this written up for a while now, I just couldn't figure out how to write the beginning and the end! Self beta'd, hope there are no mistakes.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/faved/alerted this! I hope I don't disappoint you all!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Chuck_, nor do I own the (briefly referenced) song from _Singin' in the Rain_. I also don't own that song by Nina Simone (_Feeling Good_). Or anything related to _the Lion King_. Or _Cats_. I thought this would've been obvious by now.

* * *

Lullaby

Chuck sings in the shower.

It's a rare, sometime-y treat for Sarah, though she can only catch him in the mornings after she has spent the night. The first time she hears him, she realizes that it isn't his usual obnoxious, joke-y, sing-song voice; if anything, it sounds like legitimate singing.

The first time she calls him out on it, he's a little nervous and tries to deny it.

"Nice voice, choir boy," she says as he comes out of the shower. She isn't really joking, because she honestly thinks he has a nice voice, but he doesn't know this.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, tightening the towel about his waist. He sidesteps his way to the closet.

She throws her own towel over her shoulder. "_You_ in the shower a few moments ago."

"What about me in the shower a few moments ago?" He pulls a shirt out and holds it up to his chest. "How do you feel about this?"

"I like it," she says noncommittally. "But don't change the subject!"

"What subject?"

She crosses her arms. "I guess that chorus of _good mornin', good mornin'_ came out of nowhere then, huh?"

"Heh," he laughs nervously. "I guess so."

* * *

Later that day, Sarah shamelessly draws the subject up again in front of the entire dinner table.

"I remember," Ellie starts, giggling from across the table, "You were Zazu in the eighth grade's production of the Lion King."

"It was more of a showcase," Morgan explains to Sarah, "a grade-wide endeavor. We were forced into it."

"No we weren't," Chuck says, eyebrow rising suspiciously. "You wanted us to audition for Timon and Pumbaa."

Morgan laughs. His best friend characterizes it more as one of his nervous chuckles.

"Chuck, they're like the best bromance in the history of Disney canon. We _are_ Timon and Pumbaa."

"That's hardly accurate, buddy."

"_Anyway_." Morgan rolls his eyes as he continues explaining to Sarah. "Chuck was only on stage for a bit of _I Just Can't Wait to Be King_." He sinks into his seat, reminiscing. "That role did _not_ even _begin_ to display the extent of your talent, man."

"And me playing the meerkat would have?"

"You and Timon have great comedic timing," Morgan says, shrugging. He elbows Sarah. "It's true."

"Not awesome, dude," Awesome says disapprovingly. He stuck his two thumbs down. "You shoulda gone out for Simba."

"He _did_," Morgan says. "Albeit behind my back..." he mumbles bitterly. "But you were _robbed_ out of that role, Chuck."

"It was a long time ago. I can assure you I am not the least bit upset about it."

Ellie scoffs, sticking her fork into a tree of broccoli. "Yeah, not _anymore_. The only reason you even wanted to be in it because that girl you liked was Nala…Who was she again?"

"Ellie," Chuck starts, face reddening. He attempts a slight motion to highlight the fact that his _new girlfriend_ is sitting right next to him. "I honestly don't remember."

Morgan, of course, gracefully ignores this. "C'mon, Chuck, she was like…your first legit girlfriend. Maybe even the first girl you ever loved."

"Love's a _strong_ word…"

"Oh, really?" Sarah's interest piques. She looks to her boyfriend in the seat next to her. "You never told me about her, Chuck." She's sincerely curious.

"It was so long ago." He channels all his attention to his plate. "Don't even remember her."

"She had one of those _alliterative_ names, too…" Morgan muses, animatedly waving his fork about. "Martha Madden?"

"No, Morgan," Ellie says. She brings a finger to her chin. "That's not it. Shelly Something."

They go back and forth, shooting off names, and Chuck laughs as if he's cool with everyone discussing this part of his past that _he_ clearly doesn't want to discuss, but Sarah realizes that he's actually quite embarrassed. He squeezes his knife a little tighter, and rips through his steak.

"I wonder if I still have that performance on tape…" Ellie ponders aloud. "Devon, honey, did we ever finish going through my childhood stuff?" Awesome shrugs. "I'm gonna have to check that box in the closet…"

Chuck takes a long, slow swig from his bottle of beer. "Yeah. Right. Pass the potatoes?"

* * *

"No show tonight?" Sarah asks as they head down the hallway to Chuck's room.

"Very funny," he scoffs. He plunks down on his side of the bed and the mattress sighs tiredly under his weight. "You're a real comedienne."

She smirks. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you at dinner." She's stifling down a laugh or two, because she knows he's really beating himself up about the whole thing. She doesn't want to prod him if he's really that uncomfortable about it.

But then again, she doesn't really understand _why_ he's so ashamed.

"You didn't embarrass me! You just had everyone revisit all these horrible, horrible moments of my awkward adolescence. No big deal. No harm done."

"How's your pride doing?" Sarah asks, sitting down next to him.

"A little tarnished, of course. Nothing a little cuddling won't fix." Chuck opens his arms up wide, a warm invitation for her to make herself comfortable. She takes it and leans into him. He wraps his arms around her, presses his lips to her neck, and then:

"Sarah?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to ask you a serious question. Don't laugh."

"All right."

"Do you think I have cooties or something?"

She giggles, and whacks him affectionately over the head with her pillow.

"Serious question!" But he's slowly but surely getting back into his old self.

"And your reason behind asking this is…?"

He sighs, wondering what he got himself into. "Well," he starts hesitantly, "to make an incredibly long and embarrassing story not as long or embarrassing…" He sucks in a breath. "Millie Morrison was the resident theater geek in the eighth grade. And, you know, I thought she was cute in her little sweater vests and knee-high socks. So when she asked me to be in the showcase, to _star_ in the show with _her_, I was pretty excited."

"How cute," Sarah says, genuinely interested.

"She was also notoriously pretentious. She only asked me to be part of it because there weren't enough boys who auditioned for the production." His shoulders slumped slightly, and he let out a small sigh. "She just wanted to put on a good show. Once it was over, she acted like I had the plague. She didn't speak to me for the rest of the year."

"Aww," Sarah coos, as he's finishing up his story. She places a comforting hand on his thigh. "Do you know what she's up to now?"

"I last heard from her freshman year of college. She wrote me to tell me that she was in some off, off, _off_ Broadway version of _Cats_." He pauses to laugh. "She's still a theater geek and she's still very pretentious, but I wish her all the best."

"That's big of you."

"Yeah, _yeah_," he blows out. "That's that. I guess I'm just lucky that I got out of my awkward stage when I did," he says. "Otherwise this could have seriously eaten away at my self confidence."

"I still think it's cute you were in a show," she says, hugging her knees up to her chest. "I've never been on stage before."

He gives her a look. He doesn't think he should have to remind her of the numerous covers she's taken on that required her to be on stage.

"I mean for school," she says. She knows what he's thinking. "I was never in a real performance."

"Oh, come on. Everyone's done at least one talent show."

She laughs dryly. "I don't have any talents."

Chuck pulls her close. "Don't you give me that."

"None appropriate for a middle school talent show, at least." she admits, shrugging. "Unless you count shooting firearms in record time and roundhouse kicking Russian terrorists unconscious in seconds flat."

"_See_? Those are quite impressive talents. I've got such a talented ass kicker of a girlfriend."

"I don't have a beautiful voice like you do," she says softly. "You should sing for me."

He's hesitant, but decides he'll sing for her. Only for her. "I think it's time that you and I arranged some heart to heart." He recites his line from the showcase in a sing-songy voice. It tickles against her ear.

"Cute," she says, "but there's no melody going on in there."

"This coming from the girl who doesn't even have a favorite song."

She holds her hand up in protest. "Not true. _Our_ song is my favorite song," Sarah says, squeezing his hands.

He laughs, hugging her even tighter. "I predicted this," he tells her. "I told you that you'd love it."

She exhales on a light note, warming against his touch. "You wanna sing it for me?"

He's only slightly hesitant, but brings his lips close to her right ear.

"Birds flying high, you know how I feel…" His voice escapes as a low rumble: whispery, shy. It tickles.

"Sun in the sky, you know how I feel…" He drops a kiss at her shoulder.

"_Breeze_ driftin' on by, you know how I feel…" Then, at the base of her neck.

"It's a new dawn-" He works his way up slowly. Tantalizingly slow.

"-a new day-" She shivers slightly at his touch.

"-a new _life_-" His lips meet hers.

She decides that this is an ideal lullaby, and she doesn't even protest when he never actually finishes singing the song.


	4. the sun says hello

AN: Let's get a few things out of the way: yes, I hate Twilight. No, there isn't any way you can convince me that Edward Cullen is a romantic character. No, I don't think any less of you if you enjoy either of these things. Yes, I am probably the slowest of the slow writers.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Chuck_, iPhone and its related applications, or that pasty, sparkly guy.

* * *

the sun says hello

The first time they "make love," that is, the first time she sleeps over, he is nervous as hell.

It probably has something to do with the fact that there is an extremely beautiful woman in sexy lingerie in his bed. Maybe. When was the last time he had an extremely beautiful woman in sexy lingerie in his bed? He swallows, nervously, toying with the idea in his mind for a few moments.

Jill.

He doesn't really want to think about her right now.

And he isn't completely sure why he's so nervous. He and Sarah are at least friends. They're pretty comfortable around each other.

Sarah creates a wall between them with one of his pillows. "Don't try anything funny," she tells him with a smirk. She rolls onto her side and pulls the comforter up under her arm. "Night," she says.

"Good night." Chuck pulls the sheet all the way up to his chin.

It isn't long before he notices the moonlight pouring in from his window framing her beautiful face. Her breathing has slowed, her hair is slightly ruffled, slightly out of place, and her warm feet are touching his.

He might explode.

An extremely beautiful woman in sexy lingerie is actually in his bed and is playing _footsies_ with him. Well, unconsciously playing footsies.

He can't help but stare at her from the corner of his eye. She's calm, nowhere near as alarmed as he's feeling.

An angel. His heart might be melting a bit. He's never seen her this relaxed.

Then: a slight jerk. She rolls onto her back.

"Go to sleep, Chuck," she says with her eyes closed. She is still calm, still beautiful, still an angel. "And quit staring at me."

* * *

The flight back home from the mission in Australia is a long one. His muscles are sore, he's exhausted, and most pitifully of all, he is _bored_.

This plane, surprisingly, doesn't feature an in-flight movie, much to his dismay, and the film he's watching on his iPhone is slowly but surely eating away at his battery life. Casey can't be bothered and has shamelessly tuned him out completely, not that Chuck would have expected anything less from the lovable, short tempered, grunting mutt. He makes a mental note for future endeavors _not_ to ask Casey to join him in a round of _Tap Tap Revenge_ or _Angry Birds_. There's something about techno remixes of popular songs and computer generated robins cosplaying as grenades that makes him a little antsy.

Chuck blows out, slightly annoyed.

Well, Sarah is asleep in the seat next to him.

That's kind of nice.

She stirs, and lets out a slight snort.

Sarah...snores?

He's mildly intrigued. He figures she must be extremely exhausted. Kicking ass does do a number on the body.

She leans into him, and for a moment, she's so close to him that he can smell the conditioner in her hair. And just as she's getting comfortable—

She jerks right up; her eyes widen.

"Sorry," she mumbles, straightening. She pushes her hair back out of her face and leans into the plane's window.

He smiles to himself because he's realized how comfortable she is right next to him.

He sighs and looks miserably at the annoying low battery reminder on his phone screen. Ten percent of battery left, ten more hours to go.

* * *

Chuck is happy when she comes home after a long day of shopping/girl's day out with Ellie. He missed her.

"Sleep," Sarah moans pitifully, collapsing onto the mattress. She doesn't even bother kicking off her heels.

He isn't particularly happy that she's drained all her energy and doesn't seem to want to talk to him.

"How did wedding planning go?" he asks.

"Don't ask. Please. Just. Don't. Ask."

"That bad?" He doesn't expect her to answer him, but she does wave a hand in his direction. _Eh_, the gesture reads, _not the _worst_ thing in the world. But still._

"We picked out some bridesmaid's dresses today," she mumbles into a pillow.

"Oh?"

"And we're flying them in from Milan."

He chuckles. "At least it's only two dresses, right?"

She rests her head on his chest and lets out a small, content sigh. "Yes...We still need to find Ellie's dress…" She takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes. "It's been a long day."

"I can only imagine." Chuck is glad she's been more excited about the wedding. She really needed something about the planning to get into. Sarah snuggles in close to him.

"I hope you're not getting ready to fall asleep on me," he says, just as she's getting comfortable.

She tilts her head up to get a look at him. "Is that a problem?" she asks, suspicious.

"Sarah, honey," Chuck starts matter-of-factly, "you drool when you sleep. It's a wonder I'm never completely soaked."

"I do _not_." She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. No drool, she's safe.

"You do. Only a little bit," he says, "and even then, it's still quite endearing."

"Oh, _shut up_." She smiles, still fighting the drift into a dreamy state. "What are you doing watching me in my sleep anyway?"

He shrugs because he doesn't really have one answer for her. He loves the way her nose twitches slightly while she's dreaming. He loves the way the moonlight hits her face when they're cuddling. He loves when she's close to him and he can smell her conditioner: V05, strawberries and cream. He loves waking up to her.

He loves _her_.

Sarah's breathing has slowed. She's comfortable. She's relaxed. She's fast asleep.

He decides he won't bother her about the drooling and the snoring in the morning.


End file.
